


Locked Up in the Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Spoilers up to chapter 135
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When he opens his eyes, he is greeted by a pair whose color and sorrow he could never forget.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	Locked Up in the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> The italicized snippets are modified lines taken from Rolfe Humphries’s translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses; I’ve indicated which words I changed with an asterisk

_ Looked back in love, and he* was gone, in a moment.  _

_ Was it he, or him*, reaching out arms and trying _

_ To hold or to be held, and clasping nothing _

_ But empty air?  _

_ \-- _

Armin isn’t sure where he is, only vaguely aware of his vision being the only sense truly within his grasp. 

The last thing he remembers with any clarity is the suffocating darkness and the horror of a former friend before him. Now, though, there is a startling lightness to the air, and there are no ghosts to haunt him. 

Silence surrounds him, free of the distinct thundering beat of the rumbling, the anguished cries of those under Eren’s unforgiving punishment—a punishment for those guilty of the simple crime of desiring to live, for which Eren was the guiltiest of all. 

Feeling returns to him in waves, sensation in his limbs and body creeping up ever slowly like the languid spread of a low tide.

When he opens his eyes, he is greeted by a pair whose color and sorrow he could never forget.

“Eren?” he gasps, scrambling to sit up straight. “Where am I? Why… why am I here?”

Before he can get too far, Eren’s arms reach out to wind themselves around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Armin.”

Stunned by the unimaginable familiarity of the contact, Armin can do nothing but stutter out, “Am I dying?”

Eren cradles Armin’s head to his chest, his touch tender but firm, and does not answer.

That alone says more than words could ever; Eren had never been particularly eloquent, preferring to communicate to the world with bloodied fists against crunching bone and calloused fingertips across supple skin.

“Armin,” Eren says again after several long moments, leaning in to press his forehead against the matted hair atop his friend’s head. “This isn’t the scenery you promised me.”

Armin gives into his selfish wants and sags weakly in Eren’s arms, lamenting and loving all at once the familiarity of his calming warmth. 

His eyelids begin to flutter, but he fights with all of his will to keep them open, knowing that it may not be enough. He owes it to himself and all the friends he lost along the way to stay awake for the end of the world, for the last moments of a short life he was afforded twice.

“Did you see it?” Eren wonders aloud, his voice and touch steady anchors for Armin’s waning consciousness. “When I turned around to show you?”

Of course Armin had seen. The clear expanse of an unbound sky had been beautiful, though not nearly beautiful enough to hide the bloodied destruction down below—a waking dream failing to obscure a prevailing hell.

“That wasn’t the scenery you promised me.”

In that, he is correct. Armin, poor, little Armin, had promised him burning water, lands made of ice, snowy plains of sand, and seas so vast and blue that no single person’s greed could ever drain it dry or stain it red. 

There had been no space in their childhood dreams for the disappointing reality of the world.

Eren grips Armin tightly, tears dampening the cool skin of his forehead. Feeling is beginning to seep out of him once again; he can no longer feel his legs, and his lungs constrict under an invisible weight. His eyes slide closed despite the swelling cadence of Eren’s heart. 

“Promise me that, some day, we’ll go see the scenery together. Promise me that…” Eren’s voice breaks. “Somehow, you’ll make sure I never have to do this.”

“I promise.” Armin whispers, hatred long departed and life not far behind. “Have I ever lied to you, Eren?”

A lifetime of understanding and hurt and another lifetime of ignorance and bliss pass between their eyes. Their story is of a love that had lasted only for a moment, a love that took root in plush white sand only to be washed away by the foamy crest of an inevitable ocean.

Calloused fingers press his eyelids gently closed for the last time. “It’s a promise.”

\--

_ Dying the second time, _

_ He* had no reproach to bring against his lover*, _

_ What was there to complain of? One thing, only: _

_ He loved him*. _


End file.
